“I beg you, please come take a look at Kugen. I thik he might be dead,” I pleaded.
The young man stared at me for a while before picking up his feet and running over. He shook Kugen back and forth and pressed his ear up to Kugen’s chest. Only after listening for a long time did he finally say, “I can’t hear a heartbeat.”
A whole crowd of people from the village came. I begged them to look at Kugen. After shaking him and listening to his chest they told me, “He’s dead.”
Kugen had choked to death on the beans. It wasn’t that he was greedy and wanted to stuff himself, it was just that we were too poor. Every kid in the village had it better than Kugen. Things were so bad for us that Kugen hardly ever had the chance to eat beans. And just like always I was my old muddleheaded self, giving Kugen too many beans at once, never stopping for a second to think about what might happen. In the end it was my clumsiness and stupidity that killed Kugen.
From then on I had to get by alone. I thought I wouldn’t have many days left, either. Who could have known that I’d make it this long? I’m still the same as before. My back’s sore and my vision is blurry, but my hearing is still keen. When the villagers are talking, I can tell who’s speaking without even looking. Sometimes when I think back I feel sad, and sometimes I feel a kind of peace. I took care of the funerals for everyone in my family. I buried them all with my own hands. When the day comes that my body goes stiff, there will be no one left to worry about. I’ve also made up my mind that when it’s my turn to die, I’ll go peacefully and quietly. There’s no need for me to worry about not having anyone to bury me — I’m sure the people in the village will take care of it. The moment my body starts to stink, I’m sure the smell will be unbearable and they’ll get rid of me in a hurry. I won’t let them bury me for nothing; there’s ten yuan under my pillow, and even if I have to starve to death there’s no way I’m touching that ten yuan. Everyone in the village knows that money is for whoever buries me. They also know that after I die I want to be buried with Jiazhen and the others.
It seems this life of mine will be over soon. It’s been an ordinary life. My dad thought I would bring honor to our ancestors. He thought wrong. As for me, this is my fate. When I was young I used the money my ancestors left me to screw around for a while, but as time went on I became worse and worse off. In the end, though, things worked out for the best. Look at the people around me, like Long Er and Chunsheng. They each had their day in the sun, but in the end they lost their lives. It’s better to live an ordinary life. If you go on striving for this and that, you’ll end up paying with your life. Take me, for instance: The longer I’ve managed to squeeze by, the more useless I’ve become, but in the end I’ve lived a long time. One by one, everyone I knew died, but I’m still living.
Two years after Kugen died, I had finally saved up enough money for an ox. Seeing that I still had a few years left in me, I decided I should go ahead and get one. An ox is like half a person. He can help me work, and when there’s free time he can keep me company, and when I’m bored I can talk to him. Taking him by the reins is just like taking a child by the hand.
The day I went to buy the ox I tucked my money away in my shirt and headed out to Xinfeng, where there’s a big animal market. On the way there I passed through one of the neighboring villages and saw a crowd of people gathered around the drying field. When I went over to have a look I saw this here ox. He was lying on the ground with his head tilted to one side, and tears were streaming from his eyes. Next to him was a bare-chested guy squatting on the ground and sharpening a butcher’s knife. The people crowding around were trying to determine the best spot to make the first incision. Seeing this ox weeping so intensely, I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. I thought it must be really terrible to be an ox. All their lives they’re driven to the point of exhaustion for the work of man, and as soon as they get old and their energy starts to go they get sent off to be slaughtered and eaten.
I couldn’t stand to watch this ox get slaughtered, so I quickly left the drying field and went on my way to Xinfeng. But after walking for a while I still couldn’t get him out of my mind. He knew he was going to die. Under his head there had been a pool of tears.
The farther I walked the more agitated I became, and then I thought, why don’t I just buy him? I quickly turned around and headed back toward the drying field. When I got there they had already tied up the ox’s feet. I squeezed my way through the crowd and said to the guy sharpening the knife, “Okay, that’s enough. What do you say you sell me this ox?”
The bare-chested man was testing the blade with his finger. He looked me over for a while before asking, “What did you say?”
“I want to buy this ox,” I repeated.
He cracked his lips and began to giggle. Everyone around was roaring with laughter. I knew that they were laughing at me. I took my money out from under my shirt and put it in his hand, saying, “Go ahead and count it.” The bare-chested guy was stumped. He looked me over and scratched his head.
“Are you for real?” he asked.
I didn’t say a word. I just stooped down and undid the rope binding the ox’s legs. I patted him on the head and stood up. The ox was really smart; knowing he wasn’t going to die, he immediately stopped crying and stood up. As I pulled the ox’s leash I told the guy again, “Go ahead and count it.”
He held the money in front of his eyes as if checking its thickness. “That’s okay, take him away,” he said, once he was sure there was enough money.
As I led the ox away, the crowd was laughing at me behind my back. I heard the guy who sold me the ox say, “I really made out today! Not bad at all.”
Oxen have feelings just like people do. As I pulled on this one’s leash to guide him home, he knew that I had saved him. He rubbed his body up against me to show his affection. I said to him, “Look at you, what’s there to be so happy about? I’m taking you home to work, not to be pampered.”
When I brought him back to the village, everyone gathered around to see the excitement. They all said I was a fool for buying such an old ox. One guy even said, “Fugui, he looks like he’s older than your father!”
Another guy who knew a lot about oxen told me that at most this one would live only two or three years. I figured two or three should be enough. I was afraid that even I wouldn’t live that long. Who could have guessed that the two of us would still be alive and kicking today? Everyone in the village is shocked. Even just the other day someone said we were “a couple of old bastards that just won’t die.”
Once the ox was home he became a member of my family, so I thought it only right that I give him a name. I thought about it and decided to go with Fugui. After settling on his name, I was really pleased with myself. He really does resemble me. Later, people in the village also started to say that we looked alike. I just giggled — I’d known that for a long time.
Fugui is a good ox. Of course he gets lazy sometimes, but even people drag their feet from time to time — how can you expect an animal not to? I know when to make him work and when to let him rest. If I’m tired then I know he must be tired, too. When my energy returns, then it’s time for him to get back to work.